The Most Beautiful Girl in Cuba(9)

I push through the crowd of men swarming around, the familiar faces filling me with relief. Emilio is there, and so many of our friends, their hands on Berriz, binding him, carrying him from the room, saving me.

There’s a commotion outside the house—heavy footsteps and yells—and Spanish soldiers burst through the door, coming to Berriz’s aid as my rescuers shout back at them, my sister Carmen’s voice echoing somewhere out there in the entry room.

I close the door to my bedroom, sinking to the floor, my legs shaking.

Where is my father? Is he in jail? Has Berriz harmed him? What will I do? What will Berriz do to me for rejecting him? For drawing attention to his perfidy?

On the other side of the door, men shout, their voices indistinguishable as they argue among themselves, and then finally, all is quiet.

Have they thrown Carmen in jail, too?

I should leave the room, go and see what has happened to my sister, to Emilio, but even as I try to rise from my crouched position on the floor, my limbs are frozen in place.

I struggle to steady my breathing, to keep the panic at bay.

I don’t remember my mother, she died when I was so young, but even after such tragedy, the sadness that afflicted our father, we lived a good life in Puerto Príncipe. My sisters, Flor de Maria, Carmen, Clemencia, and I were happy. We had a garden where we would grow flowers. We had some money, and life was as pleasant as we could make it. Perhaps my father might have wished for a son, but he loved all of us and treated us as though we were his equals, never as children.

I would give anything to go back to those days, to be reunited with Flor de Maria and Clemencia. I would give anything to escape these horrors.

I pray my father and sister are safe.

Where is Carmen?

Hours must pass, the walls of the room growing smaller and smaller. Surprisingly, no one comes for me. It’s impossible to believe a man like Berriz will let this incident stand, that there won’t be some retaliation for me rebuffing his advances. Will he do as he said, and strike at my father to punish me? I have to hope he has merely imprisoned my father; if Berriz’s true aim was to seduce me, even he couldn’t have been foolish enough to first harm my father.

Finally, I can’t take the waiting anymore, the urge to flee overwhelming, and I slip out the door and head toward a little cabin I know from when I used to explore the island with Carmen. It’s as good a place as any to hide until I decide what to do next.

I walk toward the hills, each and every sound alerting me to a potential danger. I imagine the beady eyes of animals watching me from the dark, hoping they won’t attack me.

At the moment, though, the animals hardly feel like the greatest danger facing me.

What has happened to Carmen?

I trudge on through the dark night, exhaustion seeping into my bones, but the need to find safe shelter for the evening propels me forward.

When I reach the cabin, I slow, the sound of voices reaching me where I hoped I’d find silence instead.

I duck down in the brush and peek out between the foliage.

Soldiers mill about the structure.

They must have come to my house and found me gone, and decided to search the island.

I still, my heart pounding madly in my chest as I watch their movements. As well as I thought I knew this place, the Spanish know it well, too, and they can predict my movements as quickly as I make them. Considering we’re on an island, there are limited options available to me. Are there other soldiers out searching for the men who came to my aid when Berriz attacked me? For Emilio and our friends?

I’ve done nothing wrong in all of this, and yet, while I thought Berriz would be exposed for the villain he is, it seems as though I am the one they seek to punish, my crime that of telling a Spanish soldier the world isn’t his for the taking, I am not his for the taking.

If they catch me, I’ll surely be killed.

I head deeper into the hills, quickening my pace, casting a glance over my shoulder every so often to ensure no one follows me. My feet slip against the ground, and a few times I nearly fall, but I continue on, my body aching, heart heavy.

As I walk on, the sky begins to lighten, daybreak dawning.

Each sound that fills the air around me sends a chill down my spine. Without the cover of darkness, my chances of being caught rise dramatically.

Am I to be thrown in jail? Sentenced to the firing squad?

Up ahead, there’s a little ravine, and I quicken my pace as I near it. I crouch in front of it, cupping my hands together, already relishing in the sensation of the cool water sliding down my throat, but when I try to scoop the liquid, it’s a dark brown color, too murky to be drinkable.

A sob escapes my lips as I wipe my hand across my face.

My body is covered in mud, my limbs sore from the hills, adrenaline crashing through me.

The sun beats down on me, exhaustion setting in, and I gather some of the nearby branches and brush. If I can’t find drinkable water, at least I can build a shelter.

But even as I begin propping up the branches, I know it is for naught. There is nowhere I can hide on this island that the Spanish will not find me. And how long before they punish my family in my absence?

I don’t know what awaits me at the house I share with my sister Carmen and my father, but there’s nowhere left to try to escape.



* * *



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The journey back to the house feels as though it takes much longer than it should, tears of frustration filling my eyes as I battle exhaustion. I listen for soldiers, but all that greets me are the normal sounds of the island.